Mineral Wells, West Virginia
by CrazedTB
Summary: We knew what was going on in the rest of the world, but in relation to our state, we hadn't the slightest idea. We were never mentioned by the media before the whole thing had started, why would we after?


**Mineral Wells, West Virginia, The United States of America**

**[The hills are white with snow, icicles dangling from the tree branches. The small, paled, suburban neighborhood lay in ruins. We sit in a trailer temporarily set up to allow her to work. Her hands tremble violently. Not from remembrance of the War, but from chronic anxiety and nervousness. She is pale, face still mottled with freckles. The bags beneath her eyes are deep and purpled. Her hair is an odd shade of brown, similar to the brown in her greenish-brown eyes. She has random silver hairs; claims she's had them since she was nine. She is slightly overweight, with muscular legs. Kelsey McCartney, former C. / Tech. Sgt. McCartney, clings desperately to her inhaler, prepared for the panic attack that may ensue.]**

We never expected it. Not once did it cross our minds.

We rarely heard our state's name in the media before The Great Panic, why would we during? **[She puts on a heavy southern accent.] **We were all just a buncha backwater hillbillies. Who cared if a buncha rednecks like ourselves done gone and got ourselves killed? **[She snarls. Her accent returns to the normal Midwestern with a southern seasoning.] **No one cared about good ol' West by God Virginia. We were given a passing glance at best. Nothing more. Maybe they'd talk about the Mid-Ohio Valley occasionally, which I'm from, but that was about it.

We were in school when it happened. In school! Can you believe it? It's like they thought we were immune or something just because we weren't mentioned. Those idiots down at the Wood County Board of Education needed to get their heads out of their asses, that's fer sure.

I was 16 at the time. I wasn't all "happy-go-lucky" as one might expect. I was a nervous wreck; a perfectionist. Still am. I guess that's why I did so well with uniform inspections.

**In ROTC?**

**[She smiles.] **Yep! Uniform Inspections and grades were my strong points in the unit.

**What was your weak point?**

**[Her smile turns nervous and bashful.] **Physical Training. I was never any good at physical activity, always a hindrance. That's why I was so surprised when….

**[She clutches her inhaler tighter. Her light smile fades.]**

Sergeant could always out run us. He could run circles around even the most active Cadets, so naturally I was left in the dust. He always pushed us, tried to get us to better ourselves. He took pity on me, though. If I had an asthma attack, he'd stop and yell for someone to walk me to he nurse. When we started PT, he'd hold my inhaler for me so I wouldn't lose it when we ran. **[She smiles in remembrance.] **He said it was an honor to hold it every Tuesday.

I guess his physical talents is what made it so surprising, so terrifying, so _infuriating_. Not towards him, of course, we all had great respect for him, but towards the zombies, towards….um, what was the technical term, Zack? Do you realize how awkward that is, the undead being called the same thing as your brother? Yeah, it's a little strange….

Anyway, we never knew it was coming. We weren't expecting much that day. The school thought it would be relatively calm after what had happened the night before. West Virginia had been hit by a series of tornadoes, which was incredibly rare, not just the fact that we were hit by so many, but their severity as well. Cars were flipped, houses almost leveled. We were under a Tornado Warning all night. One of my friends had three tornadoes pass by her house. Some of our neighboring towns were hit pretty hard. They were being cleaned up, and they were in our prayers. It was because of this cleaning process that they didn't notice the wave of Zack…They were completely helpless and unprotected. The only protection they had was buried under whatever was left of their homes.

I was in the ROTC room at the time. We were joking around, having already finished our work for the day. Our little Delta Flight. There were only ten people in it, and I was the one girl…. And the Flight Commander. That was my second year in a row being Flight Commander…at least Charlie Flight had a few other girls, even though it was a pain. Way too many Cadets, way too many trouble makers. Most of those people quit before the second year, thank God. Didn't want to put up with them again, I can tell you that right now. I was also the Flight Commander for Fundraising Flight; a pathetic fledgling under my command.

It had been unusually quiet that day. I think we, or at least I, had ignored it, mainly because I always had some sort of eerie feeling, always heard some strange noise, or lack thereof. Sometimes I'd be walking to the bus stop in the winter, and I'd hear this beeping noise echoing through the valley, coming from no direction in particular, giving me this surreal, light headed feeling. Other times I'd wake up and hear this vibrating noise coming from the hallway, like the wall itself was vibrating. It made this very faint humming noise. So, as you can tell, I'd learned to ignore strange noises or feelings.

Some people would be disgusted to hear we weren't sitting and sulking over the recent destruction from the tornadoes. We sat there laughing, making our usual, perverted, off-handed jokes with one another. We weren't being heartless, but we knew wading through unnecessary depression wouldn't solve anything. We were already trying to swallow what was going on in the rest of the world. We were raising money for those affected, our part was done. And, although we didn't realize it at the time, we were laughing more, enjoying each other's presence more, just celebrating that we personally had come out okay.

It was towards the end of the class period and sergeant hadn't returned. There were times when Sergeant would leave to take care of work, to get some lunch, but he'd always be back by 5 till 12. So when it was 12:04, and he still hadn't returned, we began to worry. A lot of us didn't want to leave until Sergeant returned; not all, but a lot. So when the bell rang, and we were dismissed, those of us who knew what might have happened, but still gave a shit anyway stayed, while the cowards left. And yeah, we got an earful from Colonel, but we always did. We didn't care. We wanted to make sure Sergeant was okay. Nothing else really mattered to us at that time.

We spent about thirty minutes or so speculating the possibilities. I was the only one to outright use the "Z" word. Everyone got real quiet; no one looked me in the eye. We all just sat there, staring at our feet, shaking and praying that wasn't the case.

Of course it was, though, right? Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so right all the time….

**[She has this glossy look to her eyes. The room goes silent for a moment, and all you can hear are her shaky breathes, and the refrigerator humming. She sighs, clutching her inhaler yet again, and brushes her white streaked hair from her eyes.]**

We suddenly heard a bit of scuffling outside, a familiar voice, shouting words he rarely said in desperation. We could tell there was more than one person, or rather, being, out there.

**How could you tell?**

Oh, well, by the noise. It was unlike any other. It was this deep, throaty noise, like thunder in the distance, seemingly dulled by the mountains. We all scrambled to the back office, stepping on each other to look out the window. Colonel was trying hard to keep his composure, but I know he wanted to make sure Sergeant was okay, too.

And there he was, fighting off these...things as best he could. He wasn't young, you see. About late 40s, early 50s, with a full head of grey hair. So it was surprising he was holding them off at all…

You could tell he was short on breath. He had tears in his eyes; he knew what was going to happen, and he didn't want to go, not this way at least. He was covered in bite marks, his BDU torn in places. I really liked those old BDUs, y'know? The old digital camo BDUs. Those were nice…Sorry, I can't help but change the subject. I really don't like talking about this…

**If you'd like to stop-**

No, no. It's fine. I need to start talking about it at some point. Help the wound heal. It'll get better faster if I accept what happened as reality...

His blows began to get weaker, and he was being overtaken by them. I dashed for the door to the ROTC room, but my arm was caught. A couple of my good friends got hold of me. I don't know how those skinny bastards held me back, but they did. Not to say I didn't put up a fight, they just kept me from leaving. They didn't want me to see what they knew would happen, what we didn't want to happen. We all loved Sergeant. He helped us all through so much, taught us so many great things. He personally helped me stay sane. He was one of the few who noticed when my anxiety was acting up, when I needed a day to just sit in the corner curled up in a ball, clawing at my knees with this wide-eyed look of terror. He'd done so much for all of us, and I didn't want to just sit by and let him get…eaten alive by those monsters.

It suddenly got quiet. Dead silent. I could hear peoples' breathe hitch. Someone dry heaved. If I listened closely enough, I could've heard boned snapping, flesh being torn. The two who were holding me slackened their grip, that is, until someone yelled. Their voice cracked, and as if the scenario wasn't heart-wrenching enough, the utter despair in Colonel's voice when he told me not to move killed me. Colonel may have been a world class dick, but he never once broke this front of the tough, unbreakable soldier he put on. So to see that crumble down with everything else was simply…

No one told me flat out what happened, although I knew. I'd make eye contact with one of them, and they'd look at me with this look of pity in their eyes, like I was too weak to see what had happened for myself. And sadly, I was too weak. I hated filling that gender stereotype, but it was the truth. I was mentally and emotionally weak. They knew I couldn't take seeing that, and so I'm grateful that they held me there.

I can't remember when I started crying, or if anyone else had cried at all-they were probably just trying to be strong-, but the next thing I know, my shirt is covered in little stains from my tears. I felt so weak compared to everyone else, but at that moment, I didn't really care.

Because Sergeant was gone.

_Just thought I'd tell you all a few things. _

_I had started writing this before I had recently gotten promoted in ROTC. I am no longer a Cadet Technical Sergeant, but a Cadet Master Sergeant, and I am also no longer the Flight Commander of Fundraising and Delta Flight's, thank God. Furthermore, this was written the day after a string of tornadoes had in fact hit the area near where I live in West Virginia. _

_Reviews are greatly appreciated~!_


End file.
